Secrets Can Be Broken
by the-madness-underneath
Summary: Mrs. Lovett has been keeping Lucy from Sweeney for much too long now. She wants to tell him, but she's afraid that Sweeney will leave her. What will happen when someone intervenes? Chapter two is up; sorry it took so long.
1. A Silent Cry for Help

**Author's Note: This is my first Sweeney fanfic, so this may be a little rough. Yes, there are two flashbacks in the first chapter. One is a flashback within a flashback. Sorry about that. But I hope you like it! Please review.**

Chapter One—A Silent Cry For Help

Tobias Ragg ran through the drenched streets of London, his legs caked in mud. The skies above the grimy city had chosen to release the deluge precisely at 10:00 that morning; precisely at the wrong time. Because at 10:00 that morning, Toby had gone to Mr. Todd's barber shop. He had been suspicious of the pale stranger ever since he had arrived at the small pie shoppe. Toby entered barber shop to do a bit of snooping. Among the dust and the drawers there had to be some clue as to whether this Sweeney Todd character had malicious intentions.

--

That morning, Toby silently tiptoed to the door. He opened it a crack and made sure that no one was inside. When he was sure that the room was empty, Toby crept inside. Suddenly, a small ringing cut through the silence. Terrified, the boy remembered that the creepy looking barber kept a bell on the door. He swore under his breath and hurried out. Toby hid in the shadows of the stairs, and it was there he realized that heavy rain drops were falling from the sky. A few minutes later, after no one came out of the building, Toby sneaked back to the shop. He was drenched from his hat to his boots, but he thought nothing of it. Toby began looking around in the dusty bureau drawers in the corner of the dark room. He was hoping that he would find blood-stained shirts or a bloodied razor at least. Alas, all of the shirts were neatly laundered and the razors glinted silver in the sunlight they caught. Still, the boy searched for anything, anything at all to condemn the gaunt tenant. Toby was rummaging through a drawer full of pants when he heard footsteps coming to the door. The drawer was shut quickly and he dove into a nearby trunk.

Mr. Todd stepped heavily into the room, filling the air with the scent of pies and rainwater. Toby lifted the lid of the trunk just enough to see what the barber was doing. Sweeney Todd took his wet jacket off and tossed it across the room and onto the floor. The smell of rain faded as the smell of the pie shoppe filled the room. Under the jacket, Mr. Todd wore a brown vest over a white puffy sleeved shirt. His pinstripe pants were just a shade darker than his black handkerchief. Sweeney Todd sat in the red and black chair, his head in his hands. Thoughts ran through his mind that even extra sensory Toby couldn't guess. However, a million unexplainable thoughts were plaguing Sweeney's mind.

--

Not many people had come to eat pies that early in the morning, and that was exactly why he had visited. Mr. Todd hadn't seen Mrs. Lovett since the previous afternoon when he gave her his bloody laundry. He was beginning to worry, as much as he hated to admit it. At around 9 o'clock, Sweeney had closed up the small barber shop and headed down to see what was going on with the landlady. It surprised him that he didn't feel the deep desire to see spilled blood. Mr. Todd shrugged off the unfamiliar calm as he walked slowly down the stairs. The usual hustle and bustle was missing. "Mrs. Lovett?' he called. No answer. Rather timidly, he called out, "Nellie?" There was still no answer. Sweeney stepped into the kitchen and saw Mrs. Lovett standing with her hands on the counter. She had a look of sadness on face. Mr. Todd stepped toward her, waiting for the usual blush of her cheeks and the jump of her heart. Nothing happened.

"Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney raised his hand as if to comfort her, but thought better of it and put it back down at his side. Nellie went stiff at his gesture and moved away from him. Mr. T noticed that her palms were red from the edge of the counter. He told himself that it didn't matter, and that he didn't care. Still, he forced two words out of his normally unfeeling self. "What's wrong?"

Warily, Mrs. Lovett looked at him. No, she glared at him. But it was an interesting kind of glare with more than one emotion. Not only was there anger in her eyes, but sadness and love as well. Nellie bit her lip until Sweeney could see beads of blood. Finally, words spilled out of her mouth as well as crimson drops. "Toby told me about what happened last night." The barber wanted to interrupt, but refrained from doing so. "Mr. T! How could you try and do such a thing to yourself? Is life really that bad?" Nellie raised her hand as if to touch his cheek. Sweeney desperately wished that she wouldn't, and to his surprise, she crossed her arms instead. "I mean, haven't Toby and me done enough for you? Do…do you miss her that bad? Bad enough to… to…"

"To what?!" he said in frustration.

"To go and try and kill yourself, that's what!" A look of realization came on her face. "You mean…you didn't…that is…but…"

"Mrs. Lovett, I did not try to commit any sort of suicide last night."

"But Toby! He said he saw you being down right melancholy, said you was taking the knife to your own throat, he did."

"Mrs. Lovett, I would not be stupid enough to take my own knife to my own throat. It is much less painful to slit one's wrists…"

"There you go again, talking all depressing like," Nellie muttered angrily. She turned away from Mr. Todd and picked up a rag. Mrs. Lovett lifted her arm to begin dusting the cabinets, but Sweeney caught it in midair. He had a dark, murderous glint in his eye as he spoke to his frightened landlady.

"Mrs. Lovett, you've no idea the burden I bear, the pain I've swallowed for the last sixteen years. You also have no idea, Mrs. Lovett, how much of a relief it would be to simply fall asleep and never wake up." His eyes went cold with insanity as he realized that he had spun her around. Sweeney held her arm near his head and grasped the back of her dress with the other hand. Still wearing a blank stare, Sweeney released his grip on the dark velvet and merely laid his hand there. To any passersby, it may have looked as if the two were engaged in a very odd dance.

Indeed, this came to Nellie Lovett's mind. She wriggled her arm out of Mr. T's firm grasp and intertwined his fingers with her own. She placed her hand on his shoulder and said, "C'mon, Mr. T. Dance with me." She began humming and old French waltz and stepped in time. To Nellie's surprise, he didn't object. In fact, he started to dance and hum along. After a few steps, Sweeney's stiff movements loosened. The two moved gracefully about the kitchen, Sweeney twirling Nellie every so often. Quite pleased with his cooperation and her own utter bliss, Nellie decided that it was time to talk.

"So," muttered Mrs. Lovett while Sweeney continued to hum lowly. Her face tingled from the vibrations of his voice. "What's been bothering you?"

Nellie waited silently while Mr. Todd cleared his throat. He looked perplexed, as if he didn't know exactly what he had come downstairs for. "Well, I was wondering if you needed anything more for the pies."

Mrs. Lovett smirked at his painfully obvious untruthful answer. "The pies? No, love. We both know that's not why you came down." She dropped her arms from his and said softly, "You wouldn't call me Nellie for nothing." She looked down as Sweeney winced. She was right. He hadn't called her by her first name since he had been Benjamin Barker. That woman noticed everything.

"Now are you going to tell me or not?" Nellie looked up into his eyes with anguish. "I can't help you until you talk to me."

At this, Sweeney turned away from her and put his hands behind his back. He stared into the bustling streets of London full of people before whispering hoarsely, "Perhaps you are mistaken, Mrs. Lovett. Perhaps I won't need your help."

The baker clicked her tongue and placed a hand on her shoulder. The barber merely stared at the thin hand. The sun was beginning to fill the small shoppe and a ray of sunlight bathed Mrs. Lovett's hand in gold. "I think we both know you're straight out lying, Mr. T. Now, what's been bothering you?" She didn't speak as she waited for the reply she knew would never come. Instead of becoming angry, she rested her chin on his shoulder. She looked at him. A small, giddy smile played on her lips as she thought of the many reasons why she didn't just lose hope. Of course, she had dwelled on this many times before, but it couldn't hurt, could it?

She watched him closely, her eyes taking in and memorizing every detail of his face. The sun was fully lighting the shoppe now, and Mr. Todd's face looked much less pale than it really was. The bridge of his nose was nearly perfect, complementing the once soft brown eyes. Sweeney's high cheekbones further accented his gaunt face and the shadows beneath his eyes. The lips that long ago were constantly being pulled into a smile were now tugged into a frown, like the rest of his face. He was unmoving, not even budging to breathe. Then, slowly, his lips opened and he turned his head to look at Mrs. Lovett. Instead of speaking like she hoped he would, Sweeney merely sighed. Mr. Todd glanced down before saying, "Shall we sit, Mrs. Lovett?" Nellie was, at the very least, surprised. His response had blown her away. She nodded briefly before turning slowly and had a seat at one of the pie shoppe tables. Before she knew it, she was sitting across from Mr. Todd, their knees just barely touching.

His arms were crossed and laying on the table in front of him. His gaze was directed down at the table, crazed thoughts undoubtedly running through his mind. At least, this is what Nellie thought. But for once, Nellie Lovett was wrong. She guessed that he was thinking of how much he missed his Lucy or maybe the Judge and how terrible he was. Nellie never thought that he was thinking of her. In fact, she even ventured to say that he most definitely wasn't thinking of her. She was greatly mistaken. The estranged barber Todd was indeed thinking of the incredibly loyal woman sitting before him.

When Sweeney Todd thought loyal, he meant it in every way. He had just about strangled her, and she had asked him to dance! If that wasn't loyal, Mr. Todd didn't know what was. He looked up slowly to see Mrs. Lovett's great brown eyes watching him, an understanding air about her. "_But what does she know?" _he thought. "_She's got no idea half the horrors I've faced. She doesn't understand my love for Lucy. All she's ever loved is that fat old butcher she mistakenly married." _He surprised himself with his own musings. Mrs. Lovett, not understand love? If she didn't comprehend unconditional love, who did? Who else greeted him every day with her smile and loving touch? Who else cared for him as if…as if…

"_As if what?!"_ He shouted inwardly. "_Are you afraid to finish your own sentence?"_ He resigned to his weakness and wordlessly mouthed, "As if she truly loved me." Of course he knew this. Of course he didn't want to admit it. Who would love a monster like him? Benjamin was easily lovable, but Sweeney Todd? No. There wasn't love for him, not after all of the things he'd done. "_You're too much of a demon,"_ he told himself. "_You're no more than a common criminal, not much more than a rat." _Yet there she was, sitting with him, ready to listen to the one who never listened to her. With this realization, Sweeney rested his head in his hand and opened his mouth. This he knew would be a slow and painful process. He had never done this before, so he mulled over every word, every phrase before it came out of his mouth. "_No overwhelming outbursts," _he told himself. "_No emotional fountains." _Sweeney needn't have thought this. He wasn't liable to say much of anything about feelings at all. No, even venting emotions about the wicked Judge Turpin was quite a laughable idea. This was going to be painful indeed, if it even began.

"_If it even began…"_ The phrase rang through his head like the pealing of the large brass church bells on Fearon Street. The consequences and repercussions of allowing someone into both his heart and mind began racing through his brain. Should he, or shouldn't he? The two ideas were having a private battle inside of Sweeney's mind. He waited impatiently as they fought. Finally, the winner was announced and the barber's head shot up. His hands clenched into a fist. He pounded the table and whispered to Mrs. Lovett.

"_Never."_


	2. The Plan

Chapter Two-The Plan

"_Never." _Mrs. Lovett looked up. "Never what, dearie?" Mr. Todd took a breath and began.

"Never have I felt so helpless." Nellie's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Mr. T? Helpless? Never! He was anything but helpless. He was strong, solid, her rock, but never helpless. His next words came out of his clenched teeth.

"It's driving me insane." Mrs. Lovett half wanted to say that he was already insane, they probably both were. However, she decided against it and stayed silent, soaking in every word that came from him. She knew that his speech could stop at any moment, so Nellie tried as best she could to not provoke him.

"If I had... if I had… if I had escaped earlier, maybe, just maybe, I could have saved her." "_Her?" _thought Mrs. Lovett. _"Who's 'her'?" _Then it clicked. He was like this because of Lucy. Nellie's insides twisted and froze when she realized that Mr. Todd was talking about his wife, the one he presumed was dead. _"I can stop this…if I wanted to,"_ But she couldn't. Countless times, she had attempted to try to tell him, but she was in too deep. Nellie had finally decided to just let it go. No matter how painful it got, she had to let it go. Now, she tried her hardest to pay attention, she tried to understand, but she couldn't. Sweeney had lost her in that conversation, if only for a moment, but he didn't realize it. But how could he? Mrs. Lovett had gotten progressively better at hiding her feelings lately. He continued slowly, his eyes directed downward at the table.

"It's as if the only way to fill this hole is to, well… kill." The words sounded so awkward coming out of his mouth, humorous, almost. Nellie suppressed a laugh and the barber looked up at her. There was no evil glint in his black eyes. In fact, they didn't even seem black at all. For a moment, Mr. Todd's eyes had returned to the gorgeous, soft brown that they were many years ago. Mrs. Lovett nearly gasped. She blinked a few times, and there they were again: cold and unfeeling. But along with the traits brought by the many years in penitentiary, others accompanied them; emotions that she sensed now that she hadn't seen before. She now saw despair, deep sorrow, longing, and the slightest glint of hope. As she stared into the windows of Mr. Todd's soul, he closed his eyes, hiding them from view.

"But once I kill the Judge, I will have no purpose, no goal. And how is one to live without a purpose, Mrs. Lovett? Without a goal, one would exist aimlessly, and I have no intention of doing so." His eyes flew open and he gave a small ironic smirk. Mrs. Lovett gasped, and this time, she didn't try to stop herself.

"But Mr. T! Surely you can't mean…."

"Yes, Mrs. Lovett. That is exactly what I mean. Once the Judge is dead, I will be as well."

"No. Mr. Todd, you can't! You just can't!" She fought off tears as she reached for his hand. It was like his eyes: cold, hard, and unfeeling. He made no reaction to her sudden outburst of defiance. He simply asked a question.

"And why not, Mrs. Lovett?"

"Because…because…" Words struggled to come to her mind. She wanted to tell him that she couldn't live without him. She wanted to hold him; she wanted to be in his arms, where he would feel again. But doing this, of course, would destroy the little trust that he had in her. "Because of Toby," she finally whispered. "He looks to you almost like a father, he does. To see you go and kill yourself would break his heart."

Sweeney gave a feeble laugh. "You and I both know that Toby would probably rejoice if I did." Mrs. Lovett waited for him to inquire further, but thankfully, he didn't press the matter. "No, I think it was set in stone that suicide would result in the death of that…thing. It's the only way."

"No!" Nellie's words came out a little louder than she would have liked. She lowered her voice a bit and changed her tone from one of desperation to one of almost reproof. "You can't, Mr. Todd. I...I'd…well; the pie shoppe would go down quick as anything."

"They would make up excuses, Mrs. Lovett, just like they always do. They would assume that you were too depressed to bake decent pies. People would leave you alone to your quiet, failing bakery. You would continue to live your life in perfect solitude. Your life would change, and probably for the better."

"But I don't want my life to change! To be perfectly honest, I'd be happy to keep living like this for the rest of my life, Mr. T." But she wasn't being perfectly honest; not at all. It wouldn't be completely terrible if this was her life, but she wanted more. She wanted the three things she loved most in her life: the sea, Toby, and most of all, Mr. Todd. It wouldn't be quite right without him. "I don't want you to go."

"You don't understand, Mrs. Lovett."

"Yes, Mr. Todd, I think I do. You think that since your precious Lucy is dead, you've got the right to go and kill yourself. Well, Mr. T, I'm here to tell you that you can't!"

"I can't. I can't live without her." His voice was barely a whisper, and Sweeney's eyes were closed as if his few words pained him. Nellie hated seeing him like this. She hated seeing him so listless and cold. And now, when he finally spoke, when he finally admitted that he felt, he felt sorrow. "_It's all her fault. She's made him like this. She caused him to be this way."_ Then, with a jolt, Mrs. Lovett realized that she was wrong. _"No," _she thought. _"It's __my__ fault. If I just told him, he wouldn't be like this. He would…he would…what would he do? He'd leave me, that's what! If I don't tell him, he kills himself. If I do tell him, he leaves."_

"Oh, if that bloody Judge had just kept his eyes off of her, we wouldn't be in this mess." Nellie had unknowingly muttered her last phrase out loud, barely audible to Sweeney.

"Exactly, Mrs. Lovett. Killing him won't undo the deeds he's done, but it will make my life—rather, my death—come a bit easier. As I have said before, death will come as a relief."

"Can you promise me?"

"Of course Mr. T, what is it?"

"If I get killed or sent back to the isle of hell, and you miraculously survive untouched and unsuspected, promise me you will kill Turpin."

"Kill the Judge for you?" Her first reaction was a flat no; she drew the line at baking people into pies. She wouldn't stoop so low as to kill a man. It was simply immoral. Chopping up people was a different matter: they were already dead. Now, if she took the life itself that changed things completely. It was simple: selling people- pies was fine, murder was not.

At that moment, Nellie Lovett realized the irony of her response.

Murdering wasn't much lower than her current job. Besides, this was the Judge they were talking about. He wasn't considered a true human. After all the things he'd done, he really didn't deserve to live. _"Yes," _she coaxed herself, _"He doesn't have the right to live. He drove Lucy insane. He took away Johanna. He stole my life. And he killed Benjamin."_ Mrs. Lovett shut her eyes quickly in a vain attempt to stop a tear running down her face. _"He killed Benjamin."_ Nellie nodded her head a few times before saying, "Yes. Of course I'll kill the bloody Judge for you…I'll kill the filthy scum of the earth."

"Thank you."

Nellie gave a nod of recognition. She looked up slowly and noticed Sweeney's hand give a small twitch. She noticed her own body give an involuntary shudder as she stared once more into his eyes. Nellie felt that all-too-familiar feeling of her heart quickening and her cheeks heating up. This didn't go unnoticed by the one sitting across from her. Sweeney saw her take a large, silent breath and then small, quick ones. Color rose to her high cheek bones and completely changed her appearance. Mr. Todd locked her into a gaze for a few seconds, and then turned his head toward the window in a quick jerk. His eyes widened. Sweeney Todd was looking at something, so Mrs. Lovett looked over her shoulder and out the window as well.

"_Oh, good Lord, not now."_

It was Lucy Barker.


	3. Toby Gets A Clue

Chapter 3-Toby Gets A Clue

Lucy Barker was standing directly in front of the window, shuddering and clutching her shawl. She was muttering with her head down. A small crowd was gathering around her. Some people were pointing and laughing, some were trying to shoo her away. None were attempting to help or seemed in the least bit concerned.

Sweeney tilted his head to the side and frowned slightly. "What is that?" he whispered. He leaned forward to stand up, but not before Nellie grasped his wrist.

"Wait!" she said in a panic.

"What?" Nellie watched his face turn from the window. She could tell him now, in a rush, and he would undoubtedly leave her right then and there to see his pitiful, crazed wife. He'd probably bring her to the pie shoppe and expect Nellie to stand there and watch him care for her. Or, she could continue lying until he guessed. She'd only be going deeper, but the thought of seeing the man she desperately loved care for one who didn't have the capacity of caring for him as Mrs. Lovett did kept running through her mind. She couldn't tell him.

"I need…more meat for the pies. That's why it's so slow around here." _You're only digging your own grave, Nellie. _Even her own head was against her.

Sweeney gave a sharp, quick nod before replying, "Yes, of course." He turned to go upstairs when Lucy began shrieking and howling. "Can you do something about that?" He then pivoted on his heel and walked slowly up the stairs. One hand was on the rail, one was on his head. Sweeney finally made it to his barber's chair. He sat down and took out one of his razors. His thumb gently caressed the blade down the center. It was newly sharpened, and just testing the razor, he slowly swept his thumb across the edge. It sliced his finger open just enough to bring blood to the surface and drench the surrounding skin in red. The sweet rusty smell filled the air around the barber, and he noticed one thing.

He hadn't felt any pain.

The sharpness he had expected to feel wasn't there. It didn't exist. The razor existed, the blood existed. The pain didn't. He looked into the glint of silver to see his reflection. His face was streaked with blood in the small mirror-like object. Sweeney stood and put the razor back into his belt and walked toward the window. The skies were darker than usual. He watched as the clouds slowly opened themselves up to the grimy streets below and poured out buckets of rain. It was God's attempt to clean the filthy city, but it needed much more than just rain to change the corrupt nature of London.

Mr. Todd turned from the window and mindlessly picked up his coat, which was draped across the back of the chair. He put it on and went outside. He had no idea where he was going, but he couldn't be in that room anymore. It was most unlike him, going for a stroll, but it wasn't exactly a stroll. His strides weren't leisurely, but quick, heavy and purposeful. That was Sweeney—purposeful. That was also why he had already planned out his death. Life with no purpose wasn't a life for him. _"The life you're living at the moment can hardly be called a life, either." _Soon, Sweeney noticed that he was wet. He was very wet. The rain had fallen from the sky and onto his head; his hands, too, were drenched. _"Where __are__ you going?" _he asked himself. His question was soon answered as he came to a grand house on a corner. It had a sense of injustice and wickedness about it, and Sweeney saw red. It was the Judge's house. His hand automatically reached for his belt and whipped out a razor. His purposeful steps began walking toward the home of the one that had made his life a living nightmare. Sweeney's arm was stiff at his side, and he felt his wrist twitch with a demented sort of joy. The blood rushed to his palm and the razor seemed to pulse in excitement. It was the feeling that he had missed just moments ago; the need to see the blood.

Sweeney's dark fantasy began to take a mind of its own. He imagined the sinking of the cold metal into warm flesh, the loud screams that turned into gurgles, and finally, the thud of the body drained of blood. His heart began to quicken, as well as his pace. The large building loomed in front of him, and the barber stopped dead in his tracks almost literally. There, on the street corner next to the unlit street corner lamp, was a constable.

The constable had white hair and a slight pot belly. He swung his billy club aimlessly at his side and seemed very focused and alert. The whistle was in his mouth and his blue uniform provided an obvious contrast for the silver badge. _"Ah, an officer of importance." _Usually, the police officer would have been no problem, but this man seemed a little too attentive. Indeed, Sweeney's suspicions were correct. The constable turned his head slightly and noticed the razor blade next to the stone-still stalker. He furrowed his brow and sauntered over to Mr. Todd. The wooden billy club was now being thumped into his palm.

The rain fell on his face and white hair. Water dripped from his handlebar mustache. "Hello, my good sir. What brings you here on this _beautiful_ day?" There was a tone of supremacy in his voice and an air of suspicion around him. Sweeney detected this and used it to his advantage. No inconsequential law enforcement member would stop him from accomplish what he had come to do.

He must have been standing there staring at the man for quite a while, since the question was repeated. "I said, what brings you out on this _fine_ day, sir?" He was obviously agitated, so Sweeney's answer came quickly this time. There was no need to anger the good man.

"Just visiting a friend, officer."

"With a razor, sir barber?"

"He needs a shave, sir. Of course, he can wait if you are in desperate need of one yourself." The man frowned in confusion and Sweeney gave a small smirk. "What is your name, officer?"

"I am Officer Jonathan Daley, of division two of the London police force. And what might your name be?"

"My name is of no importance," he growled as he glanced around. There was no one on this street, or probably on any street before or after it. It was a nasty day indeed. Sweeney closed in on Officer Daley's neck and enveloped it in his hand. "Goodbye, Jonathan Daley." A smooth swipe of the razor and a slight pause, and blood flooded from the unsuspecting old man's neck. Sweeney dragged the body to the doorstep of the honorable Judge Turpin. He was about to go inside, but he heard Mrs. Lovett's sweetly accented voice in his head. _"Wait." _It took all of Sweeney's strength to put the dead police man sitting upright, as if guarding the place. There were better ways of torturing a man than killing him at his home. Rain slowly began to soak the blood into the navy uniform.

"Let this be a warning," muttered Sweeney as he walked away from the scene of the crime. He had no need to put away his helper; no one was watching. Besides, wouldn't the fact that his coat was covered in blood be reason enough to raise suspicion? No one was taking notice of him, so Sweeney kept walking. He strode right into his barber shop, his overcoat darkened by the blood and water.

As soon as Mr. Todd entered the room, he noticed a change. Something was wrong. Someone had been there. It was inevitable that a person other than himself had been inside his room; whether they had touched anything was still unsure. He acted as he would normally and tossed his coat into a corner. The barber's chair sat in the middle of the room, waiting for someone to put its trust in it. Of course, the chair was no different from its owner; deceptive and fatal. Nonetheless, Sweeney sat down and put his head in his hands. What had gotten into him back there?

No, he wasn't thinking of the poor Jonathan Daley. The police officer had left his mind and Sweeney probably wouldn't ever give it a second thought. No, he was thinking about that instance in the pie shoppe. It was so unlike him to go and talk to Mrs. Lovett like that. He had barely spoken a word of Benjamin since the day he arrived. It was as if he ignored all of his past except the part that included the evil qualities of the Judge, he wouldn't feel the pain of losing his family. That wasn't to say that they didn't come up in his dreams. Sweeney's subconscious self openly admitted the ache he felt for the love he knew sixteen years ago.

A sharp ringing noise interrupted the barber's thoughts. _"If it's that sailor boy," _he mused, _"I'm going to slice him in half,"_ He stood and was pleasantly surprised that it was a new customer. He seemed of middle age with a scruffy beard and tattered clothes. _"A weathered traveler, perhaps?"_

The customer took the liberty of speaking first. "I understand that you are a barber." Sweeney gave a sharp nod. "I would like a shave. My life has been far too lonely, and I feel the need to be clean-shaven. How can I be sure that you are a fine barber?"

"I guarantee that this will be the closest shave you will ever receive in your life, sir. Please, sit." The man did, and Sweeney put the cloak over him to protect the clothing from suds, hair, and blood. He closed his eyes and waited for the suds to come. Sweeney lathered him up and took his razor near his throat. He gave a slight smirk and swept the instrument across the man's throat. His eyes widened and he gave a loud sputter before blood sprayed in every direction. There was a loud thump behind the chair as Toby shut the lid of the trunk to avoid getting covered in blood.

Sweeney sent the body down to the basement before walking slowly over to the trunk. There were still wet footsteps beside it that disappeared just before the edge of the wood. Mr. Todd slowly opened the trunk to see Toby looking up at him with wide, accusing eyes.

The boy opened his mouth to speak and a rush of garble came out. Soon, he sorted it out and made words out of it, even if they weren't very many. "I knew you were bad! I just knew it!"

Sweeney lugged Toby out of the trunk and glowered at him.

"_Get out."_

Toby didn't move.

"_I said, get out!"_

"I knew it! I told mum you were bad, but she didn't listen!" Anger flashed through his eyes as he let Toby go. The boy nearly fell from the force behind the gesture. As he regained his balance, he thought of a threat that would surely bring the barber to his knees.

"You can't do this. I…I can get you sent to jail!" Toby was the more serious than he had ever been in his life. "Besides, mum won't stand for this!"

"Your dear mum already knows," he replied coolly. Sweeney began advancing in his direction, and Toby's eyes widened as he began heading backwards towards the door. "In fact, she aids in the disposing of the customers." Toby hit the door and fumbled for the doorknob. His hand closed around it and turned. Before he exited the shop, the murderous barber grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close enough to hear him whisper.

"_Don't say a word."_ At first Toby thought Mr. Todd was going to whip out his razor and kill him right then and there, but he was released to leave. Toby nodded vigorously before awkwardly walking out the door.

In one swift movement, Sweeney seized the razor and swung at the door once the meddlesome child was gone. He rested his forehead right below the implement lodged in the wood. Someone knew, and no one was supposed to know anything. And who knew just what young Toby would say, sober or not.

**Author's Note: Thank you for all of your amazing reviews! I enjoyed writing this chapter, even if it wasn't my best. The next chapter is coming soon!**


	4. Questions and Constables

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Toby's mud-covered legs pumped as hard as they could down the middle of Fleet Street. The rain had stopped all that was left was the brown muck and the dark clouds overhead. The former of the two wasn't helping as Toby almost fell because of the suction that was being applied to his shoes. He almost had to stop to prevent one of his boots from coming off. He was looking for any type of police officer to talk to. There was no way he was letting that horrible man kill anyone else—especially Mrs. Lovett.

At last, he saw a man walking down the side of the street in a blue uniform. "Sir!" shouted Toby. "Sir, please, wait up!" The man finally slowed down and turned around. Toby began running faster towards him and caught up to him.

"Sir, there was this…only wanted…and Mr. Todd…and now I'm…and now he's…and I can't let her…" What he meant to say was "Sir, there was this man, and he only wanted a shave, and there was Mr. Todd, and then a lot of blood, and now I'm here, and now he's dead, and I can't let her die!"

The police officer crouched down so that he was eye to eye with the boy. "Whoa, whoa. Slow down, son. Now, talk to me slowly, and explain again what happened." Toby gave a quizzical look and glanced down. He inspected the officer rather like a piece of fruit before remembering how easily Mr. Todd killed the man in the shop who hadn't done anything to him. What would he do to a person who was threatening to take him to jail?

Toby took in a sharp breath before thinking on his feet. "I…I'm lost. I can't find my way home."

The police man gave a low chuckle before standing up. "Well, kid, let's take you back to where you belong. Where do you live?"

"158 Fleet Street," replied Toby simply. The police man nodded and headed towards the place Toby mentioned. Of course, Toby probably knew his way around London better than anyone in town, but the officer didn't know that. The two just walked in silence until they reached a street named Fleet. Towards the middle of the street was a building labeled Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium. "Thank you, sir," said Toby, trying to indicate that the man could leave. Bringing a constable into the pie shoppe would give her a heart attack.

However, the hint Toby was trying to drop wasn't working. The officer nodded and smiled and walked him into the pie shoppe. Once there, he greeted a very frightened Mrs. Lovett with a smile.

"Hello, miss. I found your boy here on the street. He said something about a Mr. Todd of sorts. He seemed downright scared." Mrs. Lovett's eyes almost came out of their sockets when he mentioned Mr. Todd. "He told me he was lost, so I brought him back. Take care of him, and make sure he doesn't take off again, okay?" Nellie gave a frightened smile and nodded slightly. Just then, the officer sniffed the air. Are those pies I smell?"

"Yes, sir. They're ready, too." Her smile turned from one of panic to one of eerie satisfaction. She turned and slid a pan of pies out and pulled out a pie. She gave it to him and smiled. "Here you go sir, hot out of the oven."

The man took the pie and stated that he didn't have the money on him to pay Mrs. Lovett. "Oh, it's no matter. You brought Toby back, and that's all that counts. Thank you, sir, and enjoy your pie." He then turned and left, leaving Mrs. Lovett to let out a breath of relief. She turned to Toby and whispered in a rush, "Now don't you ever scare me like that again!"

At first Toby thought she was talking about his short disappearance, but realized quickly that she was referring to the constable. "I'm sorry, I really am."

"Well, than what was all of that about? I almost died of horror when that man mentioned poor Mr. T!" She rumpled his hair and stood back up to start cleaning the tables. "I feel sorry for the man, having no family at all to care for him."

"I don't think Mr. Todd needs our sympathy." Nellie turned around and looked at the boy with a wary look on her face. "Mum, I ran to the constable because I went up to Mr. Todd's barber shop today. He…he killed a man, mum."

Mrs. Lovett hung her head in distress. There wasn't any use trying to hide what Sweeney Todd's Tonsorial Barber shop really was. "Yes, love, I know." However much Toby knew about the business of the tenant upstairs, he wasn't about to find out how Mrs. Lovett helped. "How much do you know?"

Toby tried to find a way to uncover as much back-story as he could. "Enough," he decided on replying. Mrs. Lovett didn't fall for it. She needed to know how much the boy really knew, and that meant visiting Mr. T. _"Kill two birds with one stone," _she thought as she came up with a plan. She would offer him a pie to keep him downstairs so she could go to the barber shop with the pitiful excuse of laundry. If he refused a pie, which he never did, then she would know that he had found out just how all of those customers disappeared.

"Why did Mr. Todd do that, mum? He said that you helped him. Does that mean he's done it before? Why, mum? Why did he have to kill that man? He didn't do nothing to him!"

"Hush, now, Toby. It's going to be alright. Just have a seat and take a pie while I go get Mr. T's laundry. I'll explain everything when I get back." She handed him a pie and gave him a smile before heading up the stairs. The boy gleefully took the pastry, proving to Mrs. Lovett that he really didn't know the entire story. The smile was gone as soon as she turned around.

Finally, Nellie found herself at Mr. Todd's door. "Mr. T?" she asked as she opened the door. "It's me." He was looking rather listless as he stood at the window, his hands behind his back. She would need to be careful. He was never easy to talk to, but she had no idea what Sweeney's reaction now that this new dilemma had occurred. And of course, she had no wish of being slammed against a wall with a razor at her throat…again. Mrs. Lovett chose her words carefully before speaking.

"Mr. T, Toby came into the shop today with constable." He made no movements. "He said Toby was scared, talking about you. Then Toby told me that he saw you finishing off a customer today." She gathered her skirts in her hands and took a step towards him. He was a stone again, and an ache filled her stomach. "Mr. Todd, what happened?"

At long last, he turned around, revealing a clean face and clothing. There was no trace of blood anywhere, not even in his hair. He glanced down before saying, "He was in the trunk." Every expression on Mrs. Lovett's face questioned how. "He sneaked in here while I was out."

"How much did he see?"

"Just one."

"Is that all?"

"Yes. Just one before I threw him out."

Mrs. Lovett almost replied with a "Mr. T, you didn't!" but what was Sweeney supposed to do, sit him down and give him a good talking to? Of course he was thrown out! They couldn't risk him seeing anything else. They couldn't risk being caught.

"But did you say anything to him? You know he could've told that man that came in with him."

"But he didn't. I'm sure that when he tried, he thought back and remembered." Sweeney was right, of course. That was what had stopped Toby—remembering just how well Mr. Todd could wield the razor. But now that Toby knew too much, what were they going to do about it? They definitely couldn't tell him much else. The less the boy knew the better. And they couldn't just ignore him, could they? Furthermore, Mrs. Lovett just couldn't put him back on the streets. She had grown too fond of him.

"So what do we tell him?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Nothing at all? Mr. Todd, you know he's going to ask questions!" She walked closer to him and stared him straight in the face. She couldn't stand by and let him—as in Toby—get away with this. They were in shallow waters now; getting out could be easy. It was just a matter of finding a way.

"Answer them. Keep him close."

"Alright, then. I just hope that this works." She turned to leave but stopped short in front of the door. There was a long gash in the wood where Sweeney had let out his anger upon the wooden entrance.

"We're going to have to fix that, aren't we?"

--

Later that night, Mrs. Lovett sat down at one of the pie shop tables. She was dead tired from all of the customers coming and going, both her own patrons and Sweeney's. Toby had been a dutiful little helper, running gin and pies to all of the different people sitting and waiting for what was now known as the best pies in London. Best of all, he hadn't mentioned Mr. Todd or anything relating to the incident that had happened previously that day. However, it was finally the end of the day, and Toby was sitting next to her. He began looking rather uncomfortable, as if he wanted to say something but didn't know how. At last, just like Nellie knew would happen, Toby opened his mouth and spoke.

"Mum, what happened today in the barber shop?" Mrs. Lovett gave a sigh and closed her eyes before reasoning out exactly how she was going to explain this to the child. She finally found a way that would completely answer Toby's question, and still keep the whole thing quiet.

"Mr. Todd killed someone today."

"Mum, I know that. I'm not stupid; I know when someone is dead." Oh. Well, maybe this wouldn't be as easy as she thought.

"Toby, I don't think you're ready to know that just yet." She turned and looked at him with a sad smile. "Maybe later." She rumpled his hair and looked away. She noticed the bottle in his hand and nodded towards it. "Pass that over, won't you?"

Toby gave a sly smile. "Of course, mum." This was going to be a whole lot easier than he thought it would be.

**Author's Note: I want to let you know that I am going home from vacation, so I may not be able to update quite as often as I have in the past week or so. I will try my hardest, and I will have EvenYou, Mrs. Lovett, Even I done very soon, I promise. Thanks for reading.**


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